


a little less conversation

by bonehandledknife (ladywinter)



Series: Tumblr Ficlet Liferaft [10]
Category: Mad Max Fury road
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2018-12-11
Packaged: 2019-09-16 06:13:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16948524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladywinter/pseuds/bonehandledknife
Summary: written foryoukaiyume's art





	a little less conversation

So there is this thing about the Citadel, where like as not Furiosa tends to catch movement from the corner of her eyes, sunlight striking limestone for a bright flare of shiny white. People moving around on their daily tasks, shadows drifting across walls, underneath the crack of her door. The motions of a city alive. She can’t help watching it, even if the city flows to her words now, and comes to attention for her protection. She can’t help being alert. It’s the habit of seven thousand days.

There’s this thing where Max tends to hear things, words in the echoes of the pipes that line the hallways, voices long dead in the amphitheaters where the rock opens up, his name in the footsteps as people walk, and the Citadel is nothing like the desert. It’s nothing like the safety of the howl of the wind and emptiness all around him and being able to see his own insanity coming on him from the horizon like a storm. Instead of being surprised by it, suddenly, around a corner.

So even with a conversation spanning 500 days held mostly in a skitter of glances and half-phrases, in sitting close then a little closer, in reintroductions and navigations and negotiations of boundaries and trust…

They had kept their clothes on. Furiosa slamming him against the wall of the armory and Max grabbing her thigh and trying to hitch her up and both of them snarling with how neither of them could wedge a hand properly into the other’s pants but neither willing to concede being disrobed. Maybe two dozen guns within easy reach, plus several crossbows and a lance, and still, _still,_ it’d felt chancy.

Unsafe.

“We’ve got to—” Max huffed out, slipping his wet fingers from her pants finally and just grabbing her other thigh, both bracing and spreading her out to help ride his leg.

Furiosa muttered, “Yeah, not here.” Shifting her metal hand up to grab his pauldron and taking her hand out too, hauling him in too, helping him out too, as his erection pressed up against an interesting sort of texture, through his pants.

_Her belt buckles_ , Max thought, just before coming, frotting up against her.

He was fairly sure he heard her snort a laugh just before she came apart as well, in his hands.

It’s his turn now, under the starlight.

(They were practically hidden from the lookouts by a dune but within the Citadel’s territory, expanded and stabilized since the early days.

She billowed out a large purpleish blanket when they stopped behind the dune.

Asked him to strip.

He’d asked her to keep her arm on.

Max may have said it while he was working loose his pants, shirt already off, so his head was down and he didn’t exactly see her expression. But when he exhaled and looked up, he found Furiosa looking a little stunned.

“Mmngh?”

She’d been giving him a thorough looking but met his eyes at his sound, “You’d want me armed while you’re naked?”

_One of us should be,_ Max gave a careless sound as he fell to his knees and put his hands to her belt. Started working the belt to her pants loose when he saw her nod and when the first bit of her belly was exposed, pressed his nose to that small patch of skin and just… breathed in for a bit.

Her metal hand came to rest on his hair and that settled him too, placed Max in space and location and time, and when he looked up he knew he would see Furiosa and not anyone else.

Max tugged her pants down.)


End file.
